Feng Shui
by m00shrum
Summary: Shin talks, Touma watches. Touma doesn't talk, Shin listens anyway. Oneshot.


**Note: **Short little story that takes place sometime between the battles, just to get this desperate need to write something childish out of my system. Poor old Touma needs to have teenage emotions once in a while. After all, he's only fourteen in the series. Yes, I'm a hopeless pedophile. So are you. ;)

- - -

FENG SHUI

Touma had never met anyone quite like Mouri Shin. He knew Shin was considered a good student at his school, but only because he worked very hard. His intelligence was average. His height was average. He wasn't particularly good-looking either—his heart-shaped face was soft and undefined. But there was something enchanting about that boyish smile, the casual swing of his arms and legs, and the seemingly endless flow of words that came so easily from his mouth. It made Touma wonder what it would be like to step into his skin and walk around in it for a day.

Occasionally, Touma would stand in front of Nasuti's mirror to examine himself. His appearance never bothered him until now. He would smile at his own image and walk back and forth until that painful smile became a frustrated frown. The mirror was brutally honest with him. His limbs were too long, his movements too stiff, his smile too old and wiry. Eventually, he'd leave Nasuti's room and secretly observe Shin for another day before returning the next time Nasuti wasn't home.

Perhaps he was just vain. Or jealous. He blamed it on Shin, perfectly aware of his own immaturity. He blamed _that_ on Shin too.

Today, he was out in the city with Shin, roaming the supermarkets and department stores. If he had been with Seiji, they would have headed straight for the bookstore, where they would each find something to read, buy themselves two cups of coffee, and sit down across from each other in the café without much exchange. Touma decided he liked being alone with Shin once in a while, where he could watch his friend freely. Shin had an uncanny talent for shopping and talking at the same time, without losing the slightest contact with every person around him. He was now saying something about what Nasuti was planning for dinner. Touma watched as he picked out the vegetables—not too big, not too small. Not too green, not too yellow. Those lips were still moving nonstop, but Touma was no longer listening.

Shin paid the cashier and they headed into the next store, but not before Shin thanked the cashier politely and wished her a good day. The cashier didn't giggle and blush, as the one in the bookstore always did when Seiji simply walked by, but her world was left considerably brighter. Touma could imagine her greeting the next customer and starting a conversation with him.

"Oh, look!" Shin suddenly exclaimed as they passed the toiletries aisle. "The toothbrushes are on sale! Want to get matching toothbrushes for everyone?"

Touma raised a questioning eyebrow. "Aren't we a little old for that?" he teased.

"Don't be silly," said Shin. He grabbed seven toothbrushes, each in a different color, and dropped them into the shopping cart Touma was pushing. "Even _you_ can never be too old for anything." He didn't stop there—he just kept on going. "Jun and Nasuti can have the yellow and pink ones. Should we get Jun a smaller one instead? Or maybe a white one. He might not like yellow." And so on and so forth.

Touma wanted him to _never_ stop.

By noon, they had already bought five large bags of groceries and household items. Shin carried the three heavier ones. Touma thought of asking if he could help, but Shin didn't seem to need it. He was still saying something about Japanese flower arrangement, the movement of his head just as lively as his hands would have been if he hadn't been carrying anything. Touma watched as he wiped the sweat below his ear onto his shoulder and readjusted the weight of the bags.

"Are you hungry?" Shin asked, interrupting himself. "Let's get something to eat. I don't feel like going back just yet. Besides, Shuu asked me to buy him another pair of socks. I swear, he goes through a pair every week, literally. His toes actually go through. I don't know how he does it."

They found a nicely air-conditioned café that served iced tea and cold sandwiches. Touma glanced around in disapproval at the tacky lighting, multi-colored to attract the same senseless teenagers as those who ran around in short skirts or flashy sneakers. Shin had stopped talking, and was now sitting back in his chair with his eyes closed, fanning himself with one of the menus. His free arm was draped comfortably over the back of the chair next to his own. He appeared so relaxed, so at ease with his surroundings, that Touma almost didn't want to disturb him when the waitress came to their table.

"Can I take your orders?"

"Ummm… hold on," said Touma, giving Shin's leg a reluctant nudge under the table. The young waitress tapped her foot against the floor impatiently, doodling something on her notepad and smiling privately. Touma was suddenly very angry with her. He was already painfully aware of how awkward he appeared next to his friend without her little display of attitude.

The waitress shrugged. "I'll come back in a while. Take your time."

"Whatever," Touma muttered, as she turned her back to him. No way in hell was he tipping her.

Shin opened one eye first, then the other, and sat up in his chair. "Sorry," he said with a sheepish smile. He trailed a finger down the menu, searching for the right order. "I must have zoned out. Have you decided what you want?"

"I'll take any old sandwich."

The waitress came around again with her notepad, which was now covered in really bad drawings of Hello Kitty. "Are you boys ready to order yet?"

Boys? Had Shin not been with him, Touma would have stood up and left without second thought. In fact, he would never have walked into this café in the first place. As he sat in his seat, arms crossed stiffly over his chest and glowering at the table, Shin began to list off enough food to feed ten people.

"Hold on, sweetie," said the waitress, writing as fast as she possibly could. "Are you sure the two of you can finish all that?"

Shin blushed and took back a few of his orders. He was still blushing when the waitress collected their menus and headed for the counter, her summer dress swishing back and forth as she walked.

Touma frowned. "What's wrong with you?"

To his surprise, Shin let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. "Isn't she pretty?" he asked. Even his pert little nose had turned pink. "She was so nice too. And she looks really good in that dress. I think I'll tell her that when she comes back."

"You have to be kidding," said Touma. "There are people like her everywhere."

Shin examined him for a moment. "You know what, Touma? Someday, you're going to find a wonderful girl, and she'll be the luckiest girl in the world because _you_ make her feel special. _You_. _Pick_. _Favorites_." He reached across the table to jab Touma in the chest for emphasis. It would have seemed like an accusation, had Shin not said it with an affectionate smile.

The waitress was back a few minutes later, carrying a tray of sandwiches and drinks.

"By the way," said Shin, as she was about to leave again, "that dress looks lovely on you."

Touma would have rolled his eyes if it had been anyone else who said the same thing, but Shin could make something so cliché sound so genuine. The waitress laughed and thanked Shin before skipping away. She appeared delighted, charmed—anything but shy.

Before they left, Shin tipped her generously, in addition to paying for the entire meal. Touma didn't comment. He was glad he didn't have to give her anything from his own wallet, but at the same time, he felt a little uncomfortable as he stared at the empty plates on his side of the table.

"Time to shop for socks," Shin announced. "I'm thinking of going to that sports store in the mall. Maybe they sell thicker socks for people like Shuu."

Touma grabbed the heavier grocery bags before Shin could get to them, praying that Shin wouldn't think he had done it intentionally. Shin said nothing about it—he was too busy talking about socks. Thick socks, thin socks. Plain socks, patterned socks. Warlords wearing woolly socks. Touma pursed his lips to hide his smile.

When they got to the mall, a bunch of older girls were crowded near the entrance of the sports store where a small photo booth stood, giggling and comparing pictures. Touma elbowed Shin lightly and led him into the store before the photo booth could distract him. The shoes and socks were displayed conveniently near the entrance, which gave Shin a strange sort of satisfaction.

"It's good feng shui to place these here," he said. He dropped the bags he was carrying onto the floor and began to go through the racks of socks.

"What makes you say that?" asked Touma.

"Doesn't it seem right to place the footwear near the door?"

Touma shrugged. "I don't see how it's any different to place them in the back of the store," he said. "Besides, there's no scientific proof that feng shui exists. There have been studies done and all of them reveal that feng shui is completely arbitrary. Every so-called expert has a different way of arranging a room."

"Oh, really," said Shin, the pair of socks in his hand flopping back and forth along with his hand motions. His tone was not condescending, but good-natured. "Well, some things can't be explained using science. Feng shui is just whatever feels right to an individual. If you believe it exists, then it does."

They paid for the socks and left the store. All the girls who had been outside were now gone, leaving an invitingly empty photo booth.

"Let's go in," Shin whispered excitedly. "I've always wanted to know what it's like in one of these."

Touma groaned. He was torn between maintaining his dignity and wanting to see what Shin might do inside. "I'll wait here for you," he finally said. "Take your time."

"But that just takes away the fun," said Shin. "Besides, who goes into a photo booth by themselves?" He took the large bags Touma had been carrying and transferred them all to one hand. Then, he grabbed Touma's arm with his free hand and dragged him behind the curtain of the booth.

The inside of the photo booth was almost completely dark. It looked something like a game in an arcade, with a screen and a coin slot, except the screen was decorated with a flowery pink border. There was also a bench large enough to seat about three skinny girls. Touma sat down on it, watching as Shin tried to decipher the faded words under each control.

"I wonder how this works," said Shin, inserting a coin into the slot. There were three options available: five minutes, ten minutes, and fifteen minutes. Shin's hand hovered over the controls hesitantly. "Ten minutes? Is that okay? What does that mean anyway?"

"I don't know. Sure, why not?"

Shin fiddled with the buttons for a while. Suddenly, the words 'GET READY' flashed neon before them. Shin fell back onto the bench in shock, just in time for their faces to appear on the screen.

"So what do we do now?" asked Touma, staring blankly at the image of himself. The dim light of the booth made him look paler than he already was, almost sickly.

"You smile for the camera," said Shin. And he smiled.

A girl's voice counted to three. Touma blinked. They heard a computer-generated sound of a picture being taken. The picture of him with his eyes half closed and Shin's cheesy smile remained on the screen for about ten seconds before the voice started over. Shin gave a victory sign. Touma blinked again.

Shin gave him a small shove. "Do something," he urged. "At least smile. It isn't _that_ bad."

"This goes on for ten whole minutes?" said Touma incredulously. Another sound of the camera. Well, at least his eyes weren't closed in this one.

Shin began to make a different face for each picture. Touma watched as he crossed his eyes, stuck out his tongue, flipped his eyelids inside out, and pulled on his ears. He wanted to do something amusing too, but couldn't think of anything Shin hadn't done yet. Shin was now making fish faces, sucking in his cheeks and moving his lips up and down. Then, he stopped.

"Come on, Touma," he said quietly. "Have some fun."

Their eyes met. Shin was still smiling, but he appeared confused, searching Touma's face desperately for any sign of emotion. Touma sat motionlessly, a grave expression plastered to his face. He secretly wondered what it would take to make Shin sad or afraid or even angry. Come to think of it, he had never really seen Shin angry before, even in battle. But when Shin's smile gradually disappeared, Touma decided he really wasn't ready to find out.

He slowly reached forward with one hand. Shin watched his friend curiously as Touma's hand came closer. And closer. Suddenly, he let out a squeal of laughter as Touma squeezed his waist gently.

Touma grinned for a split second before returning to his blank stare. "Shhh. Not so loud."

"Do it again," said Shin. His eyes were practically glowing. "I bet I won't laugh this time."

Touma gave him a sly look. His hand came toward Shin again, but this time, he went for Shin's stomach. Shin squirmed around and bit his lip to keep his laugh from escaping, but didn't make a sound. Touma gazed at him in fascination—the playful smile, the curve of his nose, those eyes that revealed nothing and everything at the same time. It made Touma want to probe deeper.

"Stop looking at me like that," Shin protested. He drew his lips into a thin line.

"Why?"

"Because I don't deserve it."

Touma couldn't understand. He was dying to understand. "But I like watching you," he blurted out. "You're fun to watch."

Shin turned a bright shade of red. "Stop it. You're making me feel self-conscious."

Touma scooted back on the bench, stung by Shin's words. This is Shin, he tried to tell himself. He's your friend. He's fun. He's outgoing. Don't mess up. Touma's throat suddenly felt very dry. "Sorry," he murmured, looking away. Shin didn't respond. For a long time, all Touma could hear was the sound of the machine counting to three and the camera click. He touched his cheeks, horrified to find them wet, and hid his face in his hands, wishing he could just crawl back into his little hole and never have to come out again.

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around him, hugging him tightly. "It's okay, Touma," Shin whispered. "It's okay. Don't be sorry."

The machine took its last picture and the girl's voice that counted to three announced in the same corny tone that the shoot was over. Touma lowered his hands from his face and closed his eyes, grateful that Shin didn't move away. His cheeks felt warm. For some insane reason, he hoped he was blushing.

"Hey, check out our pictures," said Shin, giving Touma's shoulder a small tap. "We can choose which ones we want to print for a hundred yen each."

Touma reluctantly left Shin's embrace and sat up. "Wow, these look terrible."

Shin laughed and pointed to one of the pictures on the screen. It was the picture of him making the fish face. Touma had one hand tucked under his chin in a museful gesture. "I like that one," said Shin. "You look so Touma-like there."

"And you look so Shin-like," Touma replied. He lifted his sleeve and dried his eyes quickly before Shin would notice.

"Are you making fun of me?" asked Shin, crossing his arms. "You're making fun of me. I knew it. You _always_ do it in your own subtle way. In fact, you're probably laughing right now. You're thinking, 'Oh, Shin is so ridiculous. He doesn't even know I'm making fun of him.'"

"No, I'm not," said Touma with a weak smile. He kept his eyes glued to the screen, scanning the pictures once and scanning them again until they became blurry.

Shin grabbed his chin and turned him around so that they were face to face. "Look at me," he demanded sternly. "I'm letting you watch me. Now watch. No, don't say anything yet, just watch… See? I'm not that interesting."

They stared at each other for a long time until Touma began to laugh. He laughed so hard that he had to hold onto the bench to keep himself from falling over. When he finally sat back up, he found Shin still looking at him, with his head tilted to one side.

"I love you, Shin," he said, still breathless from laughing.

"You're crazy," said Shin, shaking his head with a smile. It made Touma love him more.

"No, _you_ are."

Shin decided to print the picture of Fish-Face and Einstein. Touma didn't hesitate to pay another hundred yen for the last picture. It was the one of Shin hugging him. Shin had an expression on his face that Touma couldn't quite describe: a mixture of concern and surprise and a thousand other emotions. Touma stuck the picture into his wallet. He could still feel the embrace, warming him from the inside out, even after they left the photo booth and took the train back to Nasuti's house.

He can still feel it today.


End file.
